


Not Just Anyone

by aquietdin



Series: Now to Be Beside You [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Food, Haircuts, M/M, Pining, Post Season 8, Slow Burn, content warning: pineapple on pizza, farming, kosmo is a good boy, mentions of past Lance/Allura, mid twenties boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquietdin/pseuds/aquietdin
Summary: -------------It's been six years.





	Not Just Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> edited slightly because after much deliberation I've decided that I like Keith being taller.

The sun beat down as dug his fingers into the damp soil, cradling another seedling and carefully transplanting it into a new pot. Sweat dripped down his forehead but he resisted the urge to wipe it away, knowing he’d only succeed in smearing his face with dirt. He preferred to use his bare hands for this. The juniberries were fragile, temperamental; he needed to feel the soil, test the moisture with his skin and hold the roots between his fingers.

He couldn’t count how many of the delicate flowers he’d manhandled to death the first year.

He’d been at it for a good four hours now, beginning when the sun was barely cresting over the ocean. Grunting, Lance rubbed at his lower back with his knuckles. This always gave him such a terrible knot in his spine, but it was worth it. He knew every time he looked over the field of fuchsia blossoms.

With the seedling safely in its new home, Lance sat back and reached for his canteen, taking a long drink. It was probably a good time to break for lunch, having worked through about half of the day’s seedlings. There was some scraps of last night's dinner in his fridge, he contemplated heating it up when the comm on his wrist pinged.

Lance swallowed another drink before raising his wrist to answer. “Yeah?”

“Lance, honey,” His mother’s voice rang clear. “You have an incoming call on the quantum frequency.”

He was on his feet in a second, turning away from the flats of seedlings and barreling down the path that led east out of the garden. “I’ll take it in my office,” he answered, rushed, almost jogging towards his small house. If it was a call coming from outside Earth, there was a very short list of who it could be, and Lance was always happy to hear from that particular pool of people.

Kicking off his shoes, Lance ignored the dirt still falling from his clothes and clamored into his small office, booting up his desktop and going straight for the communications app. A request blinked at him, Lance practically slapping the ‘accept’ button.

A ring rotated as the call connected. Lance held his breath.

A blip, a crackle, and a familiar grin greeted him.

“Hey, Lance.”

“Keith!” Lance beamed. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Quit it.”  His hair looked even longer than the last time Lance had seen it, hanging shaggy around his face, tied back at his neck. “I called because I’m coming back to Earth.”

That got Lance’s attention, and he sat back in his chair. “Oh, cool! We’ll have to catch up.” It had been a good seven months since he’d seen Keith in person, and while video calls were nice, he missed his friend. “How long will you be planetside?”

Keith scratched at his neck, just below his scar. “Probably a week or two? I’m sort of, um. Taking a vacation.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow. “You even know what a vacation _is,_ mister workaholic?”

“Ha ha.”

Grinning, Lance rested on arm over the back of his chair. “Seriously though, it’ll be good to see you again. Where are you staying?”

There was a bit of chatter from behind Keith that Lance couldn’t make out, his friend turning his head to the side and nodding once. “Dunno, I was probably gonna just crash at the Garrison-”

“Nope,” Lance cut him off. Keith’s eyebrows went into his hair.

“You’re staying with me.” Lance gestured in a wide circle around his head. “I have a whole house to myself now, Keith. A _house._ I have a _guest room._ There’s no reason to squeeze into one of those stuffy dorms.”

Keith smiled softly. “They’re not so bad.”

“Dude.” Lance leveled his old friend with a serious gaze. “You’d rather have that cafeteria slop than my mom’s cooking?”

That made Keith stop to consider, his mouth going into a little sideways pout. “You make a compelling argument,” he said after a short silence. “Alright, you win. Only because I miss Earth food.”

Laughing, Lance brought up his calendar. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. When will you be in?”

Keith seemed to be doing the same on his end. “There’s a scheduled wormhole opening for the Milky Way in about four quintents, I plan to be on the first transport through.”

“So Thursday?”

A shrug. “I guess? I have no idea what day it is when I’m out here.”

Lance typed out ‘KEITH’ on the node for Thursday. “Right. Once you’re on earth, ping me and hitch a transport to Juan G. Gomez spaceport. I can pick you up.”

“Got it.” Keith paused, then smiled gently. “Thanks, Lance.”

“Anytime, buddy. See you soon.”

“See you.”

The connection cut, and Lance sat back in his chair. He was already in a good mood before the call, but now he was on cloud nine. The paladins of Voltron had all gone off to live their separate lives after the war was over, but they were his family, just as much as his parents and siblings were. Too much time apart from them made him ache.

Going for the fridge, Lance started a mental checklist of what he’d need to prepare for a visit from Keith, humming as he reheated his leftovers.

 

\-----

 

Thursday morning came, and Lance leaned against his car outside the spaceport, watching the latest transport land. Keith was on that ship, and soon he’d be here. It was enough to make him giddy.

Passengers began filing out of the front gates about ten minutes later, humans and Olkari and Alteans, along with species he couldn’t identify. At the back of the crowd, Lance spotted him. He could have picked him out of a crowd of millions, with that jacket and that stance.

“Keith!” Lance waved his arms above his head. “Over here!”

Turning his way, Keith’s face visibly brightened upon spotting Lance, making a quick beeline towards him and his car. The palms of their right hands came together and Lance pulled, jerking Keith in for a hug, who laughed and hugged back. His old friend had finally surpassed him in height, hitting a solid six foot one while Lance stagnated at five foot eleven. There was a brief time in their early twenties when Lance seemed to gain an inch on him, but then Keith hit another growth spurt and left him in the dust.

“Good to see you, man.”

“Same to you.”

They separated, and Lance took stock of his best friend. Keith was still tall and built, his shoulders broad, but he looked tired, pale, the skin under his eyes dark and his hair dull.

“Damn,” Lance snickered. “You look like hell.”

Keith pouted. “Gee, thanks. _You_ try managing a massive multi-galaxy organization for months on end and see how good you look.”

Lance laughed as Keith took a travel bag off his back and threw it in the back seat. “Unlike you, I have a decent skin care routine.”

They settled into the car and Lance started the engine, pulling away from the spaceport. “Nice convertible,” Keith commented. Lance snorted as they pulled onto the road.

“I live on an island paradise. Why would I have anything else? I’m taking the scenic route, so sit back and enjoy the view.”

They drove in silence, the hot afternoon sun warming against the ocean wind that whipped around them as Lance drove up Via Blanca. Keith kept his eyes on the scenery, the ocean sparkling to the north, mimosa trees and palms to the south. Lance thought he saw Keith dozing in his seat, his long hair whipping around him as he leaned his head on his arm.

It was barely a thirty minute drive to his family’s farm, the fields of juniberries greeting them as Lance took the side road up to his own house. Keith hummed in appreciation as they parked and got out, sizing up the little blue bungalow.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Lance grabbed Keith’s bag. “It’s sweet having my own house. No one can yell at me for being a slob.”

“So I’m in for a real treat, then.”

Lance unlocked the door and gestured Keith inside. “Only the best.”

Despite their joking, Lance had cleaned his home from top to bottom in preparation for having a guest, even if it was just Keith. He led his friend to the guest room at the back of the house, a small, understated room with a twin bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. It wasn’t much, but it had an east facing window that let in the morning sunlight through to warm the hardwood floor. Lance had made sure to put fresh clean sheets on the bed.

He set Keith’s bag on top of the dresser. “Here you go, man. Make yourself at home, bathroom’s out the door and to the left.”

Keith smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is great, Lance. Thanks.” He stepped further into the room. “Mind if I clean up and rest a bit? I’ve been up for almost a full quintent.”

“Day, Keith,” Lance elbowed him. “You’re on Earth now, you can say day.”

“Whatever.”

Laughing, Lance left Keith in the guest room and went to the kitchen. He heard more footsteps and the bathroom door open, then close, and a few minutes later the sound of the shower. While Keith drained the hot water tank, Lance busied himself with a pork sandwich with pickles, slicing it in half.

Keith emerged from the bathroom almost twenty minutes later, wearing a black shirt and ratty jeans, his feet bare as he rubbed a towel over his head. He smiled at Lance from the hallway.

“Feel human again?” Lance asked. “I made some food.”

They went to the porch to eat, drinking mate soda as Keith talked about his journey. He was mostly quiet, every so often closing his eyes and leaning into the ocean breeze.

“I missed Earth,” he said softly, after their sandwiches were gone. “When I was here, I wanted so badly to leave. But now when I’m away, all I want is to come back.”

Lance drained the last of his soda. “Isn’t that what it’s always like?” he mused. “That’s what makes it home.”

Keith hummed a sound of agreement.

It was a solid four hours before dinner with his parents, so Lance took Keith by the shoulders and guided him to the couch, ordering him to take a nap. Keith protested for all of thirty seconds before he was stretched out on the old sofa, hugging a pillow and quickly falling asleep.

 

\-----

 

Lance awoke the next day with the first rays of light, like he did every day. He’d need to check on the new strain of juniberries, seeds sent to him from Coran on Altea, that were supposedly more resilient to the higher nitrogen content of Earth’s soil. Sitting up, Lance stretched his arms above his head, then started to get dressed. It was just before seven, plenty of time to work and still hang out with Keith.

On his way down the hall, Lance dared to crack open the guest room door. Inside, tangled in a cocoon of white sheets and faded quilts was Keith, his back to Lance, his dark hair splayed all over as his shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Smiling, Lance silently pulled the door closed, then crept from his house and down the path to the garden.

It was hours later before he returned to his house for a shower. The sun was well on its way to becoming hot, and Lance was already drenched in sweat. On a hunch he knocked on the guest room door, figuring Keith had to be awake by now.

“...yeah?” came the response. He opened the door and peeked inside. Sitting up on the bed was Keith, his face covered in sheet prints and his hair wild, falling over his shoulders. He looked bleary eyed and still half asleep.

“I figured I’d let you sleep in,” Lance said, half-teasing. Keith rubbed at an eye with the heel of his hand.

“Thanks,” his voice was rough. “Haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

“Hungry?”

Keith made an attempt to smooth the hair away from his face with little success. “Starving.”

Lance grinned. “Lemme grab a shower.”

Stopping to grab some clean clothes from his own bedroom, Lance showered quickly, noticing a black leather bag as a new addition to the sink basin in the bathroom. Keith’s, he reasoned, feeling a tiny pinprick of an urge to snoop. He rolled his eyes at himself, applied a layer of moisturizer, and went to the kitchen.

Keith was sitting at the table with a glass of water, his hair still a disaster but now at least pulled into a knot at the back of his neck, still in his sleeping shirt and pants. Lance dug a carton of eggs, fruit, a sweet pepper and a wedge of cheese from his fridge, stopping to activate his coffee maker.

“You can take a nap later if you want,” he offered, flicking on the stove and setting down a frying pan. “You look like you could sleep for a week if I let you.”

Keith huffed a laugh. “Honestly? Yeah, I probably could. Sleep is a luxury I don’t get much of these days.”

Lance frowned as he sliced a pad of butter into the pan, then cracked an egg. “Is it that bad out there?”

“Not really?” He could hear Keith’s fingers drumming on the water glass. “There’s just so much to do. All the time. It never really stops.”

“What about your mom and Kolivan?”

He could sense Keith’s shoulders drooping at the mention of his mother. “Krolia has her hands full as much as any of us. Kolivan is the one who’s really taking charge of the former empire, transforming it into a republic. We’ve got a few others, but…” A sigh, weary and thin. “We’re trying to undo ten thousand years of damage. It’s slow going.”

“Hmm.”

Keith didn’t say much else as Lance finished cooking, eventually setting down two plates loaded with sliced pears, fried eggs and peppers with cheese, and toasted bread with butter. Keith’s face seemed to perk up immediately, doubly so as Lance poured two cups of coffee and offered him one.

“Thanks,” Keith said, taking the mug and sipping. He sighed, closing his eyes. “Wow. Been too long since I had real coffee.”

“What are you drinking out there?” Lance asked, using his fork to slice off some egg and heft it on to his toast.

Keith mirrored him, holding his fork in his left hand. “There’s this galra, uh, tea? Called Norash. It’s made from a fermented root sap.”

Lance made a face, and Keith laughed. “It’s not so bad. Tastes kinda like cinnamon, definitely has caffeine or something like it. Keeps me awake when I need it.”

The conversation went easy, familiar, like they hadn’t spent the last seven months on opposite ends of the universe. Keith’s laugh was warm and the sound set Lance at ease. He’d missed this.

Between the two of them, they made short work of breakfast and dumped the dishes in the sink to deal with later, then Lance took Keith on a short tour. His friend had been to the farm plenty of times, but there were new installations, new plants, a whole new field of crops. He introduced Keith to a group of botany students from Miami University studying at the farm, who gaped and gasped at the former Red Paladin of Voltron. One girl dropped a bag of soil on her feet in shock.

Keith did take a nap, lying on his back beneath a shortleaf fig with his hands tucked under his head. Lance sat beside him and read through his tablet while he slept, catching up on news. Later they walked to the other side of the farm to Lance’s parents’ house, where his mother and father were grilling shellfish over a barbeque pit. They ate and ate until Keith had to push his plate away with a sheepish grin, Lance throwing an arm over his shoulders and laughing, even as his mother teased Lance about his continuing bachelor status.

They sat by a fire pit and told stories until late into the night, then Keith and Lance walked back to the bungalow, arms around each other, beer bottles in hand and snickering to themselves. As he stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed, Lance thought he could hear Keith breathing in the next room, and decided he loved the sound.

 

\-----

 

The next day went much the same, unhurried, comfortable, and soft. Breakfast together, coffee and eggs, naps in the garden, dinner with the family. The color returned to Keith’s face, the dark circles under his eyes fading away. He helped trim the dead blossoms from a mature group of juniberries, Lance showing him where to snip the stems to preserve the plant. Keith worked with careful precision, his expression intense as he handled the garden shears. At night, they ate dinner with Lance’s parents again, then spent the rest of their waking hours watching television on the couch, laughing quietly.

On the third day, Keith was in the bathroom, yanking a comb through his long hair. Lance grimaced at the sound and moved to intercept.

“What are you doing?” he asked, all but snatching the comb away.

“Uh.” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Combing my hair?”

“Wrong,” Lance frowned. “You’re butchering it, jeeze.” He leaned in to inspect the mass of hair at Keith’s back and made a noise of disapproval. “Do you use conditioner at all?”

“...No…?”

Lance had to press his palms together in front of his face and breathe. He then clapped his hands down on Keith’s shoulders and leveled him with a serious look.

“Keith. Buddy. I’m telling you this because you’re my best friend. You have got to take better care of your hair if you’re gonna keep it long.”

Keith blinked, then laughed softly. “Is it that bad?”

Letting go of one shoulder, Lance pulled a lock of hair up between their faces. “Look at these split ends, Keith. This is nothing short of _criminal._ ” Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance stepped back and fixed him with a look. “You need a haircut. I’ll get my scissors.”

Keith made a high pitched squawking sound, his hands flying to cover his hair. “No. No way. I’m not letting you anywhere near me with sharp objects.”

“This is an intervention.”

“Do you even know _how_ to cut hair?”

“Actually, yeah,” Lance put his hands on his hips. “I cut my niece’s hair all the time.”

Keith put on one of his pouts, a face that Lance hadn’t seen in years - since they were still overgrown kids blindly flying through space. He sighed.

“Look, I’m not - I’m not gonna hack it all off. Just let me trim the ends. Please?”

Keith’s pout softened as he lowered his hands, turning to the mirror. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s pretty bad, dude.”

Keith leaned over the sink and let out an exaggerated breath. He was silent for a full minute before turning to Lance. “I’ll kick your ass if you ruin it.”

Beaming, Lance went for the cabinet where he kept the good shears, a sheet, some hair products, and a spray bottle of water. Even though he more or less agreed to it, getting Keith to sit in the patio chair was another battle, and Lance didn’t feel like he’d won until the sheet was draped over Keith’s clothes and tied at his neck.

“Calm down,” Lance told him, spraying his hair with water. “I know what I’m doing.”

Keith was tense but silent as Lance wet his hair and worked in a hearty dose of leave-in conditioner, finally managing to loosen the knots and comb it into soft, dark waves. It was longer than it looked, almost to the middle of his back, uneven and unkempt. He probably hadn’t cut it in years.

Lance began by snipping off the longest bit, and Keith inhaled a sharp breath at the sound. He was stiff as a board in the chair, almost vibrating.

“Keith. Trust me.”

At his words Keith’s shoulders sagged just a bit. “You know I do,” he responded, his voice hushed.

As Lance worked, Keith relaxed more, sitting silent and still in the chair. Lance went slowly, carefully trimming bit by bit, stopping to comb his fingers through to smooth it as he went. Keith’s hair was thick, almost ridiculously so, and having his hands in it for the first time made Lance understand why he kept it long - it was probably an untamable nightmare when cut too short. Maybe it was part of being half Galra. The freshly cut ends of Keith’s hair were starting to curl as the conditioner dried.

“Jeeze,” he commented, combing another section to the side and snipping the ends. “How do you have so much hair?”

“Dunno.” Keith’s voice sounded almost sleepy.

His bangs were tricky, Keith tensing up again as Lance combed them away from his face to work. He had to work in tiny increments to make sure he didn’t cut it too short, stopping to pull the hair flush against Keith’s cheeks to check the length.

Keith was fixing him with an odd stare, a soft pink riding high on his cheekbones. Lance’s fingers stilled for a moment. Keith’s eyes had always been expressive, a deep violet-gray that, once you knew how to decode them, could give away his most guarded thoughts. Lance thought he had them figured out. Maybe not.

Satisfied with his work, he finished combing out Keith’s hair, shaking the strands loose with his fingers before sweeping the sheet away. “All done.”

Keith stood slowly, then started petting at his hair, inspecting it with his hands. Lance was proud of the haircut. Instead of the dull mess, Keith’s hair was once again shiny and smooth, falling just below his shoulders and curling wildly like it used to, his bangs framing his face.

Keith was silent for a long time, playing with the ends of his hair. He finally turned to Lance and smiled, a small, shy grin that made his face go soft. “Thanks.”

They spent the rest of the day in the garden, relaxing and snoozing in the sun until Lance’s mother called them for dinner.

 

\-----

 

They fell into a routine, and while it was great and fun, Lance decided to shake things up on the fifth day.

“I’m taking you to Vinnie’s.”

Keith looked up from where he was inspecting a pot of seedlings. “Who is Vinnie?”

Laughing, Lance removed his gardening gloves and wiped the sweat from his face onto his sleeve. “Not who, where. It’s my favorite pizza place on the beach.”

“Oh.” Keith looked mildly embarrassed. “Right, that place with the garlic knots?”

“With the garlic knots,” Lance confirmed, checking his tablet. “It’s Tuesday, so they shouldn’t be crowded - not that I ever have trouble getting a table.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith continued rotating pots of seedlings.

A few hours later and after much needed showers, Lance drove them up to Varadero Beach, just as the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. Vinnie’s was more of a shack than a restaurant, the entire building seemingly made of driftwood and salt, the walls soaked with the smell of pizza and fries. The host greeted Lance by name and guided he and Keith to a table on the balcony that overlooked the ocean, several more staff members calling out “Lance!” as they went. There were almost no other customers.

“Nice, we get the whole balcony! My usual,” Lance grinned as he took a seat. “And two lagers.”

The waitress, who looked like she was barely old enough to drive, bounced away. Lance slipped his aviator shades up on top of his head as he surveyed the water.

“This view never gets old,” he mused. And it didn’t, the white sand and crystal clear water fading from soft green into deep blue. Keith hummed, leaning his chin on his hand as he scanned the horizon, his hair tied back in a low ponytail.

Beer and food came, two pizzas stacked with toppings and a large basket of garlic knots, accompanied by bowls of melted butter and yellow rice. They dug in, and Keith laughed at the absurd amount of food that was apparently Lance’s ‘usual.’

“What?” Lance shrugged as he dipped a garlic knot in butter. “I work on a farm all day. Do you know how many calories that burns?”

Keith drained his first beer and motioned for another. “A lot?”

“A _lot._ ”

Lance declined a second beer, mentioning that he had to drive home later as they finished off the first pizza and started on the second. Keith made a face as he encountered pineapple, making Lance sputter on his soda as he picked off the fruit with disdain.

As they finished, an older woman came to clear away the plates, smiling at Lance. “Good to see you again, honey,” she cooed, her accent thick and warm. “You know, my daughter is still single.”

Lance’s face fell, just a bit. “Oh. I see.”

The woman winked at him and turned to walk back into the restaurant. Lance waited until she was gone before sagging in his chair, sighing loudly.

Keith set his beer aside, crossing his arms to lean on the table. “Something wrong?”

Chewing his lip, Lance took his time to answer. “Just…” he sighed again, taking his sunglasses off his hair to run a hand through it. “I’ve been getting that kind of thing a lot lately. From my mom, too.”

“What,” Keith said carefully, “Are they pushing you to…?”

“Find a girlfriend? Yeah.” The wind rustled his hair and Lance moved to push it away from his eyes, his fingers skating over the Altean markings on his cheekbones. “They start up with the ‘you’re halfway through your twenties!’ talk and… I know it’s been a long time since I lost Allura. But.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

Keith nodded, his gaze down. “She was really special.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s not even about that,” his voice went quiet. “It’s not even about _her,_ though a part of me will always love her. I’m not mourning anymore, but just… after everything we’ve been through? Everything we’ve seen?” He drummed his hands on the table. “I dunno. I don’t think I could go back to dating. I don’t think I could be with just anyone.”

Keith was quiet, studying him with soft eyes. Lance huffed a laugh.

“Man. I must sound like I have crazy high standards or something.”

Shaking his head, Keith uncurled and leaned back into his chair. “No, I get it.” He finished his beer and set the bottle aside. “We _saved the universe._ There aren’t many people out there that would understand.”

Lance smiled at him, letting one of his arms dangle over the back of his chair. “I’m glad you do.”

They fell into silence, but it was comfortable. Lance paid the tab and they went for the beach, removing their shoes and rolling up their pants to walk along the water. The sun was setting, bright gold along the ocean, lighting them both with a warm glow.

Stopping at a secluded area where the tourists were gone for the day, Lance and Keith stood side by side in the water, letting the waves lap against their legs. It was perfect.

“Lance.”

Turning his head to the side, Lance looked towards Keith, his friend’s gaze set forwards towards the sunset. The wind rustled his hair and clothes.

“Yeah?”

Keith didn’t look his way. “Wanted to ask you something.”

His tone was serious, quiet but tense. Lance was immediately on guard. “Sure thing,” he answered slowly, turning his whole body to face Keith, who took a deep breath.

“You said earlier that you didn’t think you could be with just anyone.”

Lance frowned. “Yeah?”

Keith turned to face him. His face was gaining color as he took another deep breath.

“I’m not just anyone,” Keith said, his voice soft.

Lance sucked in a breath. Had he heard that right? The sound of the ocean around him cut out.

“Keith…?”

Keith said nothing, keeping his eyes on Lance, his expression somewhere between melancholy and apprehension. Lance’s pulse sped up.

“Did, uh.” Lance licked his lips, which were suddenly dry. “Did you just ask me out?”

A tiny sideways smile ticked at the corner of Keith’s mouth. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Lance’s whole body flashed hot. In an instant he was seventeen again, unsure and shaking. He scratched at the back of his neck, knowing full well that he was turning red, the water at his feet ice cold in comparison to his skin. Keith asked him out. His best friend. His brain sputtered and stopped.

“That’s. Um. Wow.” He fidgeted with his hands. “So does that mean you like me? Er, shit, I mean-”

Keith rolled his eyes. “No, Lance, I just asked you to date me for shits and giggles.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Lance stuttered in response.

“W-well! You just - jeeze.” Words weren’t coming in any coherent way, and Lance turned towards the water, frustrated. Keith went quiet for a long while.

“Sorry,” Keith said, just loud enough to hear over the wind. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Lance almost laughed. Uncomfortable wasn’t even close; he felt like someone had drop-kicked his entire thought process and he was struggling to pick up the pieces. But when he turned to Keith, his friend’s eyebrows were pinched as he stared down at his feet. He looked hurt.

“Hey,” Lance started, but clicked his mouth shut. Keith looked up at him then, and he looked tired again, like he had when he first landed on Earth. Lance felt a pang in his chest. “Look, man, just - just gimme a second to process this, yeah?” He rubbed at his arm, a nervous gesture. “That’s a pretty hefty bomb you just dropped.”

Keith didn’t move. “Sorry,” he repeated.

Lance really wished he would stop apologizing.

Other than that, he didn’t know what to think. One question was nagging at the back of his mind, despite the subtle fear prickling at his skin. “Uh,” he started. “How long have you…?”

He didn’t finish the question. Keith’s eyes searched the water.

“A long time.”

It sort of punched the air out of Lance, hearing that. He was tempted to ask for a time frame, a date and time, but clenched his jaw shut. His brain spun as the information settled at the bottom of his stomach like a lead weight and refused to move, making him vaguely queasy. His pulse was racing.

“I. Uh.” Lance dimly registered that his voice was shaking. “Sorry, man, but I-I don’t think I can give you an answer to that right now.”

Keith nodded, still staring at the water. “I understand.” He sighed quietly, crossing his arms. “Lance?”

It was hard to face him, Keith suddenly seeming much taller. Or maybe Lance just felt small. “Yeah?”

Keith’s eyes were piercing. “Whatever your answer is, I’ll always be your friend. Remember that.”

Those words made Lance’s racing heart slow just a bit, calmed his frantic nerves. He smiled at Keith, a small, unsure smile. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

They finished watching the sunset, then Lance drove them both back to his home, where he and Keith said goodnight before slipping into their separate rooms and closing the doors behind them.

Lance shrugged out if his clothes and crawled between his sheets. He stared at the wall beside his bed for a long while, finally turning towards his dresser. Among the photos of his family and friends was the picture of himself and Allura, the only one he had of her, taken six years ago when he’d finally found the courage to confess his feelings. She looked so happy in that photo that his chest ached, and he suddenly missed her terribly - not for her love, which he would always miss in some section of his heart, but Lance found himself pining for her wisdom, her maturity. Her dignified grace that held them all together as the universe fell apart around them. If Allura were here, she would tell him what to do, help him figure out how to make sense of the storm that raged in his chest.

“What should I do?” He whispered into the dark.

No one answered him, so Lance returned to his pillow, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

 

——

 

A knocking at his door dragged him to the waking world, snorting against his pillow and sitting up fast enough to make himself dizzy.

“Huhn?” Lance slurred, barely conscious.

His door opened and a head of black hair peeked inside. Keith, his brain supplied, though his vision was still fuzzy.

“It’s almost nine,” Keith was saying. “I know you normally wake up early, so…”

Lance dragged a hand down his face. “Shit. Yeah. Thanks, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Keith nodded and closed the door again, leaving Lance alone. He scrubbed at his face with his hands. Why had he slept so late? He searched his memory as more of his brain came online. They’d gone to Vinnie’s and stuffed themselves. He’d only had one beer, so he couldn’t blame a hangover. Then they walked on the beach, and -

Lance was awake in an instant, Keith’s declaration replaying in his head.

_I’m not just anyone._

Right. That would be why.

He was no closer to an answer now than he’d been last night, tossing and turning until he finally managed to fall asleep. And he had to deal with it today. Keith was still here, in his house, probably in his kitchen.

Before he could let that train of thought run away completely, Lance grabbed his tablet from the bedside table and typed out a quick message to his family to check on his gardens today. He doubted he would be of much use.

He climbed out of bed and threw on some clean jeans and a shirt, then went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he went to the kitchen, Keith was sitting at the table, fully dressed with his hair neatly combed. Two cups of coffee were steaming, one in Keith’s hand, the other in front of the empty chair.

Lance took the seat opposite Keith and sipped at the coffee, doing his best to act calm, but he was so drawn in on himself that it took a full minute to notice that Keith was staring at a tablet in his hand. A deep frown creased his face.

“...You okay?” Lance dared to ask. Keith sighed.

“Can I use your quantum comm?” Keith’s voice was tight. “I got a message from Krolia.”

Oh. Lance mentally chided himself for assuming Keith’s mood was about him. “Yeah, sure, it’s in the office.”

He lead Keith to the small study, which was honestly a glorified closet, and started up his systems. Once the comms were open, Lance stepped back and let Keith take the chair, typing coordinates and sending a call.

It took almost a full minute to connect. When it did, Krolia’s face came on screen, looking as intense as ever.

“Keith,” she greeted.

“Mom.” Keith nodded. “What’s going on?”

On her end of the line, Krolia sighed, and Lance noticed she looked tired. “We’ve hit a snag in our negotiations with the people of Bannuel - it’s worse than we realized. The whole planet is a refugee camp, the population is made up entirely of lifeforms who’s planets and civilizations were all but destroyed by the Galra empire.” She closed her eyes. “They are refusing to cooperate, even discuss. They do not trust the Blades, they cannot differentiate us from their oppressors, and they are making threats.”

Keith hummed, his brow knitting together. “Do you have any non-Galra agents with you?”

“One, but she is low-ranking and lacks experience. Keith, I need you here.” Krolia’s voice went soft. “You are half human, and a former paladin of Voltron. They would listen to you.”

Keith folded his arms over his chest, looking to be deep in thought. Krolia’s face turned remorseful.

“I’m sorry, Keith. I know you wanted to take some time away from this.”

Shaking his head, Keith unfolded his arms. “I can rest later. The people of that planet need us. I’ll be there as soon as I can, until then, maintain a distance.”

“Copy that. I’ll see you soon.” her eyes darted to the side. “And it’s nice to see you, Lance.”

Lance, who thought he’d stayed out of view, squeaked and waved. “Hello, Krolia. Didn’t want to intrude.”

She said nothing more as she closed the comm link, the screen going blank. Keith leaned on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. His whole body sagged.

“...You okay?” Lance asked again, knowing full well the answer. Keith huffed a breath and stood.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” His voice was strained. “Just wanted to visit the Holts and Shiro while I was planetside, so much for that.”

Frowning, Lance considered his friend. It was like the last six days of relaxation and rest hadn’t happened, Keith was just as drawn and pale as he’d been on Thursday. He didn’t like it, and for just a moment, he was willing to do anything to see Keith happy again.

“I’ll go with you.”

Keith whipped around to stare at him, confused. “What?”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll go with you. From the sound of it, these people don’t want to deal with any Galra, yeah?” He tapped the marking below one of his eyes with two fingers. “Most people think I’m Altean at first glance. I can help.”

Keith’s eyes hardened as he stood. “No, Lance. This place could potentially erupt into a warzone. I can’t put you in danger.”

Hardly able to believe his ears, Lance rolled his eyes as hard as he could. “So, what, it was cool when we were in Voltron, but suddenly I’m a liability?” He pouted. “I was your _right hand_ , Keith. I can handle it.”

Keith blinked, then frowned deeply. “That’s not it. I know how capable you are, but --” he huffed and looked away. “You have a life here. A _peaceful_ one. You don’t deserve to go back to war.”

That sent a pang of hurt through Lance’s chest. “Neither do you. Keith,” he began, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I told you a long time ago that I’d always have your back, and I meant it.” Lance’s fingers squeezed. “Let me help.”

Keith was silent for a long moment, finally looking Lance in the eye. “You’re still a stubborn ass, I see.”

Lance laughed. “Only when certain people are being even worse.”

 

\-----

 

They spent the rest of the day preparing, booking passage on transports and packing small bags. Lance met with his brothers and parents to discuss his absence; his mother wasn’t exactly happy, but she seemed to understand, kissing his cheeks fiercely.

“Don’t stay gone for three years this time,” she scolded.

It was 10:15 in the evening when Keith and Lance were boarding their first transport. Lance couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. He only left earth once a year to make a trip to Altea to honor Allura, and after all that time spent flying through space as part of Voltron, a part of him missed it. A big part.

Their first flight was barely an hour, landing at the Garrison just before midnight. It only took another twenty to board the giant transport that would take them halfway across the universe via teleduv. Lance took a minute to compose a message to Pidge, apologizing for not stopping to see her and her family - he doubted their presence would go unnoticed in the Garrison, and she would find out sooner or later. Lance figured her wrath would be less severe if she heard about it from him.

They secured a pair of first class seats, two large, comfortable chairs in a private alcove near the front of the ship. The whole journey would take less than seven hours, but once they were airborne, Keith removed his jacket and draped it over himself like a blanket, reclining his seat.

“Gonna get some shuteye,” he said quietly. “You should too. Things might get crazy once we get there.”

Lance nodded, taking out his tablet. “I will in a bit.”

Pulling up the leg rest, Keith stretched himself out and let his head loll to the side. He was out within minutes - one of his apparent superpowers was the ability to sleep virtually anywhere. Lance had first noticed it in the Castle of Lions, often finding Keith snoozing on the training deck, in the kitchen, tucked into corners. He slept so lightly that no one could get within ten feet before Keith would awaken, often brandishing his knife.

Glancing down at his old friend, Lance smiled at the memory. Keith had changed a lot since then. They both had.

His smile faded as his memories shifted to the beach, and Keith’s question. Neither of them had spoken about it since, not that Lance would have had much to say. He hadn’t made much progress on his end, his thoughts on the matter still uselessly tangled.

Keith wanted to date him.

Keith _wanted_ him. And had for a while, apparently.

Lance dared to examine Keith, now sleeping soundly in the relative privacy of their first class compartment. Keith had always been good looking, _that_ was no secret, despite how long Lance had teased him about his hair. With his high cheekbones, sharp nose and intense eyes, he was elegantly handsome, a stark contrast to his bad boy image. The list of students that harbored affections for the untouchable ace pilot in their Garrison days was a lengthy one.

Something stirred in Lance then, a whisper of an old, forgotten sensation. A secret he’d forcibly buried, tamped down and viciously hidden beneath words like ‘rivalry.’ Something he’d told himself he couldn’t have, and therefore, did not want. It was old, tucked away for nearly a decade. He’d almost forgotten it was ever there.

He stared at Keith, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he slept, his hair falling softly across the bridge of his nose, lips parted as he breathed slowly. Lance swallowed hard.

The next six hours were going to be very, very long.

 

\-----

 

He’d managed to fall asleep at some point, awoken with a start by a hand on his shoulder. Keith was gently shaking him, calling his name. Lance blinked slowly, yawning wide.

“We there yet?”

Keith had put his jacket back on. “Just about.” He tapped at his tablet once before slipping it into the breast pocket. “A blade agent will meet us at the planet Urlig station to take us to Bannuel.”

Lance was still waking up. “Any chance we can have some breakfast on the way?”

Keith let out a huff that Lance identified as a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Landing was uneventful, and soon they were crossing the tarmac of an interstellar port swarmed with lifeforms of all kinds. Keith led the way to a much smaller transport on the opposite end, where a Galra in Marmora armor greeted them. They climbed aboard and, with the agent piloting, took off. Inside the hold, Lance stowed his bag as Keith dug around in a storage bin.

“Here,” he said, handing a bundle to Lance. “Put these on.”

Lance stared at the stack of what looked like fabric and armor, black and grey. “What is it?”

“Blade of Marmora garb,” Keith explained, handing over the clothing and returning to the storage compartment. “This will be easier if you look like you’re a member.”

“Oh.”

There was another closed off section in the back of the ship, so Lance ducked inside to change, slipping out of his comfortable jeans and shirt to shimmy into the synthetic bodysuit. It had been years since he’d worn anything this form fitting, and it took some work to get himself situated in the skin tight material. The armor was simple, a chest plate and gauntlets, along with the black hood he’d seen Keith wear when he began his Marmora training.

The metal of the walls was polished enough for Lance to see his reflection, twisting around to see how the suit fit. He couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious, wondering how he’d been comfortable with outfits like this when he was a teenager.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Coming,” he answered, hastily folding his clothes.

Keith was already dressed when he went back to the hold, his armor covered by a series of blue and black sashes with white trim. Lance didn’t know the details, but he knew enough to recognize a high ranking outfit when he saw one. He looked good in those clothes, Lance decided, the designs and colors complimenting Keith’s fair skin and dark hair, which he’d taken out of the ponytail and pulled gracefully over one shoulder. They made eye contact and Keith blinked, eyes scanning up and down Lance’s body slowly.

He frowned and looked away, adjusting a gauntlet.

Lance tucked his clothes into the compartment with his bag. “Something wrong?”

Keith let out a breath. “Just didn’t want to see you in battle gear again.”

 _Me neither,_ he wanted to say, but instead Lance flicked his hood and grinned. “What, you kidding? I’m rocking this getup and you know it.”

That got him a smile and a raised eyebrow. “I should probably explain what we’re walking in to,” Keith said as he took out his tablet, motioning at the seats by the wall. Keith gave Lance a thorough debriefing, going into full Leader Mode as he projected maps, schematics, and other data from his tablet. Lance listened carefully, able to follow Keith’s instruction despite his six year absence from any form of warfare.

“Let me do the talking,” Keith finished, putting away his tablet. “Just follow my lead. These people are scared, and we need to put them at ease.”

Lance nodded. “Copy that, team leader.”

Blinking rapidly, Keith gave Lance a pointed look before shaking his head with a grin.

 

\-----

 

Half a varga later, they were docking with a large Marmora cruiser, a repurposed Galra battleship that had much of its outward appearance altered. It looked less pointy, less threatening, lit up blue instead of purple. Inside, Krolia greeted them, her eye searching over them. Kosmo ran to Keith immediately, who pet him in response.

“Keith,” Krolia said, then narrowed her eyes. “Lance. Thank you for coming.”

Lance didn’t know what to make of that look, so he said nothing as Krolia guided them to what looked to be a conference room. They sat in large, high-back chairs as she pulled up photos of the refugee camps on the screens. They were made up of ratty tents, caves, and shacks made of pieces of ship debris. It looked terrible, dirty and falling apart.

“This is what we’re dealing with,” Krolia said, mostly to Lance. “The people here are in bad shape. They don’t have adequate food, clean water, or medical supplies. We’re trying to help, but they are refusing any form of aid. Even unmanned drones with supplies are being shot down.”

“Oof,” Lance commented. “And negotiations aren’t going well, I take it?”

Krolia shook her head. “Not at all. We managed to meet in person with a representative, but the moment he saw we were Galra, he nearly attacked us.” She pressed at her tablet, and more images came up on the screen, these of small Galra attack cruisers. “To make things more complicated, there are remaining hostile Galra factions in this sector. They are rejecting the new Galra republic and clinging to the old, violent ways.”

Lance grimaced. Beside him, Keith looked tired.

“We’re here to try to revive negotiations,” He explained. “Seeing two humans might work out better in our favor, especially since we’re former paladins.” He rubbed at his temples. “We just want to secure supply routes to this planet. We’re not trying to establish a presence here, just get the citizens the help they need.”

“Makes sense,” Lance responded. “Have those rebel Galra factions taken any direct action?”

This time Krolia seemed to sag a little. “Not yet, but we’ve intercepted communications suggesting that they’re planning an attack.” The images on the screen changed again, showing swarms of small Galra fighters. “We can easily repel their forces, the ship they have lacks an Ion Canon and only seems to have minimal offensive capabilities. But the real issue is what it could mean for our relations with Bannuel. We can say we’re not affiliated with the attackers all we want, but whether or not they believe us is another story.”

Lance nodded. “Someone who’s only ever been attacked by dogs would develop a phobia of all of them,” he mused quietly. “No offense, Kosmo.”

Kosmo lifted his head to peer at Lance, his ears twitching.

“Indeed.” Krolia swiped at her tablet and the images on the screens cut out. “Now that you’re here, we’re going to attempt contact again.”

With the meeting effectively over, Keith led Lance to another small room with a window that overlooked the planet. It was grey and brown, with small sections of glittering yellow lights. The whole surface looked to be sick.

Two trays of food were brought to the table while Keith busied himself with something else nearby.  Lance recognized at least on of the dishes as meat from a land animal they’d eaten before that had a strange, almost citrus aftertaste. The rest of it looked to be some sort of vegetables and a scoop of some kind of orange paste, probably a starch, accompanied by what he guessed was bread. Keith returned to the table and sat opposite Lance, placing a cup of something steaming in front of him.

“Here,” Keith said. “Norash.”

Lance sniffed at the cup before taking a sip. He paused for a moment before laughing. “You’re right, it _does_ taste like cinnamon.”

From the other side of the room, Krolia chuckled. “Keith’s father used to make me cinnamon waffles. They always reminded me of Norash.”

As they ate, Keith was mostly silent, chewing his food slowly. There was a tension in his shoulders, his mouth drawn into a thin line. It was like the first days of his leadership of Voltron; unsure, withdrawn. Pensive.

“Hey,” Lance said, just above a whisper. “It’ll be fine, we’ve got this.” He reached out and set his fingers over Keith’s hand where it was resting on the table, tapping gently. Keith stared at their hands before smiling softly, nodding.

 

\-----

 

They established a communication link with the surface a varga later. Lance stood stoically behind Keith as his old friend handled most of the negotiation. The creature they talked to was a lean, willowy thing, pale yellow with feathers in random spots and a small, reptilian face. It was sort of cute in a weird way, like a Jamaican boa crossed with an angry, fluffy bird.

As he listened, Lance was thoroughly impressed with Keith. The broody teenage boy who rejected leadership of Voltron once upon a time had become a commanding presence, sharp and unquestionably in control as he weaved his way through the discussion with fluid grace. Yet there was still a kindness to him, the rough edges of his youth polished into something that shone so brilliantly. It made Lance ache with how proud he was to stand beside him. The old whisper in his chest felt louder, then, rising up from where it was buried. He glanced sideways, catching the outline of Keith’s profile once before returning his attention to the screen in front of them.

They finished talking and the communication cut out, Keith’s shoulders immediately sagging with a sigh. “Alright, we’ve secured a meeting.” He turned to Lance as Krolia came back into view. “We need to go in unarmed, just me and Lance.”

“Risky,” his mother countered.

Keith shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We can handle it, right buddy?”

Lance grinned wide. “Of course.”

 

\-----

 

Keith flew them down to the surface, landing on what he guessed was supposed to be a dock, but in reality was just a patch of packed down dirt with crude lines painted on it. There were guards with weapons drawn on the as soon as they exited the craft, and Keith put his hands into the air. Lance did the same.

“We are unarmed,” Keith told them. “We are here to negotiate with Commander Prylo.”

A small alien with four arms and wide eyes pointed towards a makeshift shelter with his rifle. Lance recognized this species, even if he couldn’t name it.

“This way. No sudden movements.”

They slowly lowered their hands and followed the guards, most of which weren’t willing to take their sights off either of them for a second. There was a prickling of unease in Lance’s spine, and he found himself wishing he had his Bayard for the first time in years.

The inside of the shack was set up like a control room, archaic computer systems scattered about, connected by cords that looked to be taped together in most places. There were screens here and there, most of them trained on the Marmora ship in orbit. The yellow feathered alien they’d spoken to before came into the room, flanked by two guards with Galra pulse rifles. These weapons looked new.

“Marmora Agents,” the boa-bird greeted them. “I am Prylo, commander of Bannuel.”

Keith dropped to one knee and bowed his head, Lance quickly following. “Commander Prylo,” Keith responded. “I am Keith, of the Blade of Marmora. Thank you for meeting with us.” They stood, and Keith gestured to Lance. “This is my partner-”

“Let him speak for himself,” Prylo said in what sounded like a hiss.

Keith sent Lance a pointed look, so he squared his shoulders and spoke. “I am Lance, from planet Earth. Keith and I are former paladins of Voltron.”

Murmuring rose from the crowd around them, several aliens pulling tablets from their clothes and tapping away. One of them brought his to Prylo, and Lance could make out a photo of them in their paladin armor, next to the Red and Black lions. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight of them. Prylo was searching them with wide, bright green eyes.

“You are not Galra. Why do you affiliate with their leftovers?”

“I am half Galra. My mother is Krolia, whom you have spoken to.” Keith explained. “The Blade of Marmora was a resistance group within the Galra empire. They fought to end the reign of Zarkon, even though it meant fighting against their own.”

Prylo handed the tablet he was holding back to its owner and scoffed. “And now they seek to make a new regime. We are not fooled. We will not let ourselves be occupied by anyone ever again.”

“We do not seek to occupy,” Keith said, his voice calm and measured. “We are now a relief organization. We only wish to help the people of this planet.”

“Help us?” Prylo flicked out a wide, forked tongue. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Keith stood strong. “With supplies. We can make regular deliveries of food and water. This planet’s resources are not enough to sustain your population, and our scanners indicate there is a pandemic spreading on the southern continent. We can provide you with vaccines and medical supplies to save your people.”

Prylo’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you ask for in return?”

“Nothing,” Keith said, putting his hands out with palms up. “If you wish the Blades to leave, then we will. But please, let us help you. There are millions of innocent lives on this planet. They don’t need to suffer.”

The aliens started whispering among themselves. Lance and Keith glanced to one another several times, waiting. Prylo motioned for silence.

“We shall discuss this matter,” he said firmly. “For now, return to your ship, and--”

Lance almost heard it before it happened. A crash, a shockwave, and the building around them rocked. Several aliens began yelling, barking out orders as screens around them lit up displaying the rebel Galra cruiser.

Prylo hissed. In an instant, ever weapon in the room was trained on Keith and Lance. “This is your doing! You brought them here!”

“No!” Keith cried, raising his hands. “They are not with us. The Blades will take care of their ships--”

An alarm began to blare around them. A small, fox-like creature lowered her blaster and went to a console, where a video feed began to play. It was outside of the building they were in, and it was swarming with Galra sentries.

“We’ve got company!” She yelled.

The room went quiet, Lance and Keith still staring down at least two dozen blasters, their hands in the air. Lance swallowed, feeling himself start to sweat.

“We will defend you,” Keith proclaimed, his voice steady and sure. “Let us help!”

More murmuring. Prylo didn’t move, and Lance was getting nervous.

“If you won’t trust the Blades,” he said, stepping forward, “Then trust _Voltron._ We were paladins. If we were wearing that armor, would you still be pointing your weapons at us?”

A hush fell over the room, and from the corner of his eye, Lance thought he could feel Keith staring at him. He swallowed hard, worried he’d gone too far. Diplomacy was never his strong suit.

From his left, there was a squeak and some shuffling. Out of the line of refugee fighters came a tiny, round alien, with large grey eyes and fluff under his chin. He approached Lance, looking up.

“Paladin,” he began, his voice that of a tiny child. “I saw you fly the Red Lion. I saw you defeat the Galra ships as we escaped on a transport. You saved my people from destruction.” He then unhooked his blaster from the strap, and held it up. “I trust you.”

“Dappo,” Prylo hissed. “What are you doing?”

The alien, apparently named Dappo, turned to glare at Prylo. “I am tired of being afraid! I am tired of watching our people starve and die!” He thrust the blaster up at Lance. “Help us, Paladins. Please!”

The silence in the room was tense and heavy, but Lance focused on Dappo, who stretched his arms up as far as they could reach, and still the blaster was barely up to Lance’s waist. He slowly bent down and sat on one knee to put himself level with the tiny creature.

“I will,” he said. “ _We_ will.” Lance then directed his voice at the crowd. “We came here to help, and we will. _Let us._ ”

No one moved. A heavy _clang_ landed against the outside of the door. Dappo visibly shrunk, the blaster in his hands shaking.

“I trust them!” came another voice. An alien with a square face and sharp looking antennae had lowered her blaster, stepping forward. “Voltron saved the universe from the Galra. I will trust them!”

A few feet away, a tall, grey creature wearing a long cloak holstered his weapon. “As will I.”

A clatter of a blaster hitting the floor. “Me too!”

Around the room, more weapons were lowered, followed by words of agreement. The clanging against the main door was getting louder, the seams beginning to buckle. Keith lowered his arms and stepped forward towards Prylo.

“Well?” he asked. Prylo hissed.

“Fine! Defeat these invaders and prove yourself, Paladins!”

Everything became a rush. Refugees scattered all over the room, ducking behind cover and taking up defensive positions. Keith called for a sword or dagger while Lance asked if anyone had a long-range rifle; within seconds they both had their favored weapons in their hands. The gun was heavy and old, but the clip was full and the scope was clear. Keith had approached the door, swinging the broadsword he’d been given and rolling his shoulders.

“I’ll cover you,” Lance said before scrambling up the stacks of monitors and crates to a perch near the ceiling. He crouched, leveling his scope at the door. His pulse thrummed.

Another two loud slams against the door and it gave way, a sea of Galra sentries bursting through. Keith wasted no time cutting them down, switching his blade between his hands with ease and moving with such agility and finesse that Lance had to swallow hard and force himself to focus. He picked off what few Keith wasn’t getting, landing shots before sentries could get within a foot of his old friend.

Lance was, in some far off part of his mind, aware of the adrenaline that surged through him, the thrill of battle that made his heart hammer in his chest and his skin damp with sweat as he took a sentry’s head clean off with a single shot. His vision tunneled. His body went light. Below him, Keith was tearing through sentries, piles of scrap forming around him.

A sentry in the doorway popped off a shot towards Lance before he could take it down. It seared across his left thigh where he was resting his weight, burning through the fabric of his Marmora suit and making him miss the next two shots. Lance spared a tiny glance down at his leg and wished he hadn’t.

The adrenaline was likely the only thing keeping him from doubling over with pain.

The refugee fighters were returning a few shots, but between himself and Keith, the sentries were almost taken care of. With the last few rounds in his clip, Lance took out six more, leaving the last handful to Keith on the ground, who swept up and cut them clean through.

As the attack came to an end and the sentries stopped coming, Lance’s vision returned to normal, color flooding in at the edges. He was panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. He put the empty rifle aside and went to slide from his perch, slipping as his left leg gave out. Lance hissed as he fell, trying to put his right leg down first to catch his weight and only partially succeeding. A sharp throb shot up his spine from his thigh as he hit the floor. Looking down, he could see the burned and melted body suit, surrounding a patch of skin that was bubbling up and bloody. Pulse rifle burns were always the worst.

A rebel came to help support his weight, dragging him to his feet. From his earpiece, he could hear Krolia talking, but the adrenaline drop off left him dizzy and a little sick, his hearing not really working. It had been so long since he’d experienced a real firefight, his body wholly unprepared for the aftermath.

Keith was walking towards him, his mouth moving, dropping his sword to the ground. There was blood on his face, seeping from a long, thin line across his left cheek, and the armor on his right bicep was torn away to reveal a deep gash. Lance couldn’t really hear him, not until Keith was inches from his face, cupping Lance’s cheek in his palm.

“Lance,” Keith’s voice was calm through his labored breathing. “You okay?”

Keith was so close, dirty and bloody, his hair sticking to his sweaty face and an ugly bruise blossoming just below his mouth. His eyes were flared, glowing, like the sunset on the beach. He was beautiful, so beautiful, his hand burning against Lance’s clammy skin.

Lance managed to nod, gripping the wrist that held his cheek. “...’M good,” he mumbled.

Keith smiled at him, and for a second, the pain in his leg dulled.

 

\-----

 

Lance didn’t remember the rest of the negotiations.

He let Krolia and Keith handle them in favor of getting the burn on his leg treated. He didn’t really keep track of how much time had passed, but when they returned to the Marmora cruiser, Lance was almost dead on his feet. Keith seemed to be in similar shape, wavering and unsteady.

There were showers on the ship and Lance took full advantage, peeling himself from his ruined armor and bodysuit. He found even more bruises on his arms and stomach as he was misted with warm water, scrubbing his hands through his hair to wash out the sweat and grime. He was ravenously hungry and wanted to sleep for a week.

After putting his jeans and shirt back on, he limped into a back cabin, where he found Keith lying on a thin mattress next to a window that overlooked the planet. Kosmo was curled up near the foot of the bed, flicking his ears. Keith had changed into a black shirt and pants and his hair looked damp, a long white stripe on his cheek covering the cut he’d received in battle. He didn’t seem to notice Lance until he sat beside him.

“You good?” Keith’s voice was rough, barely cracking open his eyes.

“Yeah. You?”

Keith put an arm over his face. “I’m thinking of tendering my resignation.”

Laughing softly, Lance shifted to lie beside him, hissing as his leg was jostled. Keith said nothing for a long time.

“That was awesome,” Lance mused, his brain quickly shutting down. “Haven’t fought in so long.”

Keith shuffled beside him, lowering his arm and settling himself into the pillow. “Yeah. Knew I could count on you.”

Lance smiled but didn’t respond. Keith said nothing more, his breathing evening out. With his last bit of consciousness, Lance turned onto his side, nestling his face into Keith’s shoulder as sleep claimed him.

 

\-----

 

It was warm when he woke.

Almost oppressively so, his lower back slick with sweat. Lance blinked himself awake, slowly, not wanting to move. His left leg was still sore. There was a blanket over his shoulders, he registered, though he was pretty sure there hadn’t been one there when he fell asleep.

Something tickled his chin and lower lip. Glancing down without moving, Lance could see a swath of wild, dark hair. Keith, he immediately knew, though it took a second for his brain to catch up. His old friend had curled up against him in their sleep, coiled against Lance’s chest, his breath hot and damp against the hollow of Lance’s throat. No wonder Lance was too warm - Keith gave off heat like a furnace. One of Lance’s arms was trapped beneath Keith’s head, the other was draped over his waist.

Without thinking, Lance nuzzled his face into Keith’s hair. It seemed like such a natural thing, like that’s what he was made to do. He smelled good. The movement was enough to rouse Keith, murmuring against Lance’s neck before slowly pulling away. He blinked, his eyes still full of sleep, peering up at Lance.

It clicked then, as Lance stared down at his best friend. This was nice. This was good. And he wanted more of it, more of this peace, this warmth. He wanted Keith to be this close, always, wanted to wake up to this. To bask in the heat that came off his body. The answer seemed so simple now, and Lance almost laughed at himself for ever feeling conflicted, smiling down at Keith.

Smiling back, a tiny smile, Keith slowly extracted himself from where they were tangled, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to gather in his lap. He was running a hand over his hair, attempting to smooth it down, though the curls would simply bounce back after every pass. Lance had seen him do it before. It was cute.

“What time is it?” Keith asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Lance made no effort to move just yet, basking in the lingering warmth. “Dunno.”

Keith was looking out the window, his gaze intense. “Sorry you had to get caught up in this,” he said, his voice hushed. “We’ll get you on the first transport back to Earth.”

That made Lance wake up more, pushing the blanket off his shoulders to sit up beside Keith. “What about you?”

Keith looked so, so tired. “I’m staying here. There’s still a lot of work to do.”

It made Lance frown, seeing the exhaustion creeping back into Keith’s face. He missed the way Keith looked in the sunshine, in the fields of juniberries, with the wind in his hair and a smile on his lips.

“Come back with me.”

Keith turned to face him, his eyes wide for a moment before his expression fell. “Lance, I can’t just take an indefinite vacation--”

“No, I mean,” Lance leaned into him. “Not a vacation. Come _home_ with me.” When Keith said nothing, he pressed on. “You’re so tired, I can see it. You’ve been at this for years, and maybe I’m out of line here, but you’ve done enough. Come back to Cuba with me. You can have the guestroom, it’s yours.”

Keith was staring at the blanket. “Lance… I’m needed here. There are people depending on me to--”

One of Keith’s hands was sitting between them, so Lance put his hand on top, curling his fingers. Keith immediately went silent.

“You’re doing that self-sacrifice thing again,” Lance chided him, though he kept his tone light and affectionate. “What about what you want? It’s not gonna kill you to be selfish this time.”

A beat of silence, Keith searching Lance’s face, looking a little stunned before he laughed. “Stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one.” Lance leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against Keith’s. “Besides,” he whispered. “You were right. You aren’t just anyone.”

He felt Keith suck in a breath more than he heard it. “Lance…?”

Lance felt light, and when he spoke, the words came so easy. “What you asked me, on the beach.” He squeezed Keith’s fingers. “My answer is yes.”

He wished he could have taken a photo of Keith in that moment, the way his eyes widened and his face flushed pink, then red, lips parted.

“Are you sure?” Keith asked, and Lance actually did laugh then, softly.

“No, Keith,” he move away enough to dramatically roll his eyes. “I just agreed to date you for shits and giggles.”

Softly, slowly, they both began laughing. Lance took both of Keith’s hands in his own and pressed their foreheads together again.

“Okay,” Keith breathed into the space between them. “Okay.”

Beside them, Kosmo let out a whine, and Keith extracted one of his hands to scratch behind the wolf’s ears. Lance stared in awe at his friend, his best friend, his family. Light from this solar system’s sun came through the window, lighting Keith and making him glow.

Lance pressed his cheek to Keith’s hair and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> [art is here](https://somekindoftuber.tumblr.com/post/182458081835/not-just-anyone)


End file.
